


The Ramparts

by Athena13



Series: The Risk [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Confessions, Love, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Pre-Slash, maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athena13/pseuds/Athena13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian and Michael discuss their feelings after "Risk" and "Stupid Rules" as best they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ramparts

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2003 with inspiration from the B/M Yahoo! Group. Part 3 in a series following "Risk" and "Stupid Rules".

He's still sitting on my bed tasting me on his lips, struggling to recover from the last few minutes. To come to terms with what happened and what didn't. Of what was said and what wasn't.

The only question now is whether he'll try to brazen it out as if he wasn't about to throw everything away, or if he'll allow himself to be vulnerable and talk about this. But then, perhaps there's a third option of which I am not aware. There's hardly any precedent for what has just happened.

First, I need to make sure he knows my anger is gone. That's easily done with a smile and ruffling of hair. Next, I need to establish intimacy and give him time to recover in privacy. That's accomplished by going round the other side of the bed proceeding to change my clothes. Intimate in the act, private in that my back is turned to him.

Funny, I notice a few minutes later as I tie the cords on my sweat pants, he hasn't said anything. Finished, I turn to find him looking at me. Watching. His expression inscrutable, even to me. That lack of precedent again.

"It's been one hell of a year," I say out loud.

At those words he looks away.

"Bri." I crawl over the bed and kneel behind him. Gently I run my hand over his head. I can practically feel his memories vibrating against his hand. Gus. Justin. David. My birthday. New York City. Portland. Prom. My store. Ben.

Things fate conspired to throw at us to force us to grow up. _Or at least make a start_. I chuckle to myself.

Ted is wrong. It wasn't Brian keeping me fourteen years old, it was both of us keeping ourselves and the other that way. As promised many years ago, protecting the other's back against all the outside forces that threatened to break us. Except now, at thirty, I realize those forces are only ourselves. There was just so much wrong with how we were living for way too long.

This is what we've both been struggling against since the day Brian agreed to father Gus. This is about what we've both avoided with pretty good success over the years. This is about relationships. About the meshing of emotion and sex. About growing up, and by necessity growing apart. Or at least finally changing our not quite platonic dynamic duo.

I think we both thought that one day it would just happen, far, far in the future. That Brian would realize what he was searching for was in me and we would just turn to each other in ways we never had before. That I would be capable of preventing us from drowning in our respective neediness and dysfunction. That we would feel worthy of the other. That it would just happen without threat or intervention of others. Without people like David, Justin, or Ben.

But what was once the distant future showed up on our doorstep. Thirty. And neither of us were ready. And those threats have appeared. I really thought I loved David. I cared for him deeply. Enough to move over two thousand miles away from Brian. And Brian truly cares deeply about Justin, maybe loves him though he's not ready to admit it to anyone including himself.

Now, there's Ben. What he makes me feel is even more scary than the virus he carries. And if I can convince him to take me back, what I feel now is only the beginning. Brian knows this.

And it may mean that Brian and I will never be. Or at least not until a distant future of which I cannot allow myself to even think.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Brian says quietly.

The pain in his voice is both a balm to my agitation and a source of my own pain. I lean forward and put my arms around him.

"We based our ideas on comic books, even you." I chuckle into his honey-colored hair.

"How pathetic." Brian played along.

"At least there's some fraction of gay semiotics in our stupidity," I said.

I felt Brian stiffen in my embrace. Shit, I hadn't meant to bring Ben so obviously into this discussion.

"Brian, you know I love you. You're my best friend. No one can change that," I said.

Brian turned around in my embrace and looked me in the face. Doubt and hope struggled there.

"Sometimes it feels as if we've drifted so far away from each other," he sighed, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Do you doubt that I'll be there for you whenever you need me? Or that you'll be there for me? Like Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad?" I asked.

"No," Brian shook his head, warming our skin with the friction.

"We can still have that even though we don't tell each other everything, we don't spend every minute together," I said.

"Sometimes it feels like there are walls between us." He bit his lip.

"They're not walls, they're ramparts. They're going to make our friendship stronger," I said.

"You're so fucking poetic, Mikey. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking." He sighed, his breath teasing my lips.

"You were thinking if you were going to lose sight of me behind a wall, you'd best get me while I'm still hot," I teased.

"You'll always be hot. You're Michael Novotny for fuck's sake!" He pressed his lips against mine.

Ever so gently our bodies moved closer together.

THE END


End file.
